


The Silent One

by Abitscrewy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Gore, Other, Short One Shot, Short Story, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abitscrewy/pseuds/Abitscrewy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanted to write a horror drabble for my character Viktor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silent One

Six hours until sunrise.

He was distraught, running through the woods he knew to be safe. The path has been the same ever since he moved to that house in Pennsylvania. Sometimes the flora would change, the color or number of the trees, people liked to cut down the beautiful flowers sometimes so there wasn’t a very good place to hide. The only reason he didn’t see me was because I was silent, wearing black, and it was just past midnight. He was wearing a black t-shirt, something with a band name on it, torn up jean pants and shoes that looked two sizes too big. The only part of this particular specimen that was disappointing was that he had a black eye. Someone had already beat me to him, sad I couldn’t hear whatever noise he made. I didn’t hold onto that thought for very long since he just kept running.

Down the hill, up the hill, through rough patches of woods, all the way to a burned down abandoned house. Not a safe place to be in the middle of the night. It took him and myself less than an hour to get there. I looked over my options of knocking him unconscious. Plenty of rocks, bricks, large branches. I went with a rock since it was less likely to break in my hand. I know the right spot to hit to kill and the right spot to knock someone out.

I loved hearing him walk so loudly, so angrily that it covered my barely-noticeable footsteps. I was able to get close enough to slam the rock into his skull and it worked, he fell forward to his knees and then to the ground.

As I pulled him behind the crumbled walls of the abandoned house, I grinned at the pained groaning that came from him. It took everything I had not to chuckle or laugh. I’m silent for a reason. If someone hears one person scream it’s less of a deal. A scream and a laugh however is cause for a lot of alarm, so I forced my happiness back down. I didn’t wear a mask. It didn’t matter anyway. He hadn’t seen me and before he could I’d already restrained him and covered his eyes with my hat. One of my favorite beanies.  
Always wash it afterwards.  
 

He started to come to and I couldn’t help but smile at his state. Bound and groaning in pain, just how I like my men. He started muttering apologies for whatever it was that got him running in the first place. I suspected he’d thought I was whomever hit him the first time, the one who beat me to a perfectly good toy. Now it was like getting a hand-me-down. I didn’t answer him, didn’t speak. It was perfect. He just kept mumbling about breaking something. Just called it an artifact, weird right? I murmured a low “Shhh” even despite the fact that I knew he would scream in seconds when I slid my knife under the hat to gouge out his left eye.

He did.

 

There are lots of ways to describe a scream. ‘Girly’ ‘Loud’ ‘Cracking’ ‘Hoarse’ ‘Sensual’ but I think my favorite is how I can describe his. It was an agonized scream only made by those who know they cannot be heard. Not that deep in the woods. It was the kind of scream I didn’t expect, but it was loud enough to cover my incessant giggling. The optic nerve cut easily with how sharp this beautiful scalpel is, and he ran out of breath. I took a deep breath, smelling the iron in the air, fresh from the wound. The eye fell delicately into my hand, I saved it for my brother to devour later. As I would with the next eye. Once both eyes were completely severed and any hope of replacing them was lost, I removed my beanie from his head. Thank god it’s black and the insignia was on the back of his head instead of the front. There were tears staining his face from before I mangled his tear ducts. It brought another smile to my face. If I let my toys go he wouldn’t have to worry about that shiner anymore. Wouldn’t have to worry about any looks at all. I love doing people favors at their expense.

Once his moaning quieted down I pushed my bangs out of my face, just to get a better look at him. What part should I take next? I remember thinking to myself.

Ah, I could carve a beautiful picture into his chest. A free tattoo. I nodded at the idea and tore his shirt off, grinning playfully at his exposed chest. ‘People aren’t objects’ my ass. Then why are names proper nouns?

 

My knife slipped through his flesh a little too easily, but I’m great at improvisation so I went with what line I got. This entire thing was improvised anyway, I was expecting someone else tonight in the woods. A girl who takes walks regularly in these woods during the day and night. This was far easier as he did not possess a flashlight. Either way I took such enjoyment in painting him with his own blood that I forgot what time it was. It took me two hours to get all that done just right. My gloves were covered with the stuff at that point. Long rubber gloves that cover the entire arm help immensely…

By the time I was done with my picture he had started begging again. God I love when they beg. I live on the words of a boy who doesn’t want to die. “Please don’t kill me,” “I’ll pay you anything.” Yeah right, not as much as your screams are worth to me. His was a little different. “I’ll never do anything bad again oh god please save me”. Haven’t heard one that specific in a while, but hey it’s one to add to the list. I couldn’t resist chuckling as I speared my blade through his windpipe and yanked it back out. I could see clear to the spine, a nice clean hole after I’d twisted the blade some. I think I put a scratch or two in the bone. I wish I could take pictures but it’s a habit of mine to make sure there’s no evidence connected with me. Nobody sees me go into a kill-spot or come out of one. Like clockwork, and half of these things are improvised!

As he made his final apology to god or whatever I got up and wrapped him up in a sheet that was nearby. This place has a lot of junk in it that people leave, people coming out here for parties and leaving cans of beer and picnic blankets. Thanks for that. It helped me carry him without blood getting on me or the ground. I walked deeper into the woods, past the bushes of purple and blue flowers, around the treelines of the golf course, to a spot that people go to start bonfires. I took what was around and set the body ablaze.

A quick fix to my high until I could have another longer-staying guest at my normal spot.

Next time it will be someone off the road, or a dirt path, or on the sidewalk at night, or in an alley trying to score a hit of their own designated drug. Wherever their life takes you that I can reach them, I’ll find them in the next state I visit on my little silent tour.


End file.
